Page 7 of A Son Hidden from the Sicilian

She grabbed the phone and punched the number for the front desk. When the cheerful woman answered, Brianna stumbled over her words, but she got them out. “A...a man has barged into my room. I need the police. I need...”

“No worries, Ms. Andersen,” the attendant said, none of her cheerful customer service voice changing in concern. “Mr. Parisi has assured me his team can handle any disruption. You’re in very good hands.”

She looked at the man in question. Who lounged in her hotel room chair like he had every right. But he was abillionaire. He’d clearly told the hotel staff some...story. And now what? Who did she call? What did she do?

Well, she wasn’t just going totakeit. Carefully, she replaced the phone in its receiver. “What are you doing?” Brianna demanded, clutching the ends of the robe together as her mind whirled. Was there anything in this room she could use as a weapon? Was she justified in using a weapon when all he’d done so far was sit there?

Well, hehadbroken into her room. That was against the law.

Right?

“We need to have a discussion, Brianna,” he said. Like they were sitting in a meeting room talking about a contract or business merger.

But they were in her hotel room. She was barefoot in a robe, with her damp hair piled on the top of her head. Which struck her as an unfair disadvantage when he sat there in a suit looking like he owned the whole world. “Yes, normal discussions happen when people break into other people’s hotel rooms.” She considered the lamp, but it was still plugged into the wall. There was no way she could unplug it and throw it at him before he did something. Except...hewasn’tdoing anything except sitting there.

There were no smiles like last night, she noted. Everything about him was serious. Businesslike.

“You have a child,” he said. Flatly. Without emotion.

But she saw the fury in his gaze. He did not make a move. He sat there as calmly and leisurely as if they were sitting down to tea. But the temper was all there in his dark eyes.

She swallowed. Her gaze darted toward the door. She could crawl over the bed and run for the door, but would she be fast enough?

“You can run, Brianna. I will not hurt you, but I will follow.” He stood, slowly and menacingly even though he’d just said he wouldn’t hurt her. “You have a child, Brianna.”

“So you keep saying.” He didn’t make a move for her, and something about that very fact kept her from lunging over the bed. No matter how angry he was, he wasn’t trying to hurt her.

That doesn’t mean he won’t. Don’t be an idiot.

“A son,” he continued in that calm, even voice she assumed workedverywell in whatever fancy boardrooms he frequented. “Born in July of last year.”

“I don’t know—”

“Think very carefully,dusci, before you lie to me.”Thiswas laced with anger. With a sharp-edged viciousness that had her swallowing and fighting the desire to cower.

And still, he kept his distance. Just stood by the chair, looking at her like she was a trail of slime. Too low to even bother to hurt.

“I haven’t lied to you, Lorenzo.” She tried to fall back on her own outrage. Her own sense of betrayal, hollow though it was in the moment. “I know the same cannot be said ofyou, but that does not makemea liar.”

“You have kept something from me, then. You prefer secrets to lies. I prefer the truth. Did you give birth tomyson on your return to America?”

“I don’t know what concern it is of yours.”

He was very quiet. The kind of silence that grew heavy as it stretched out. She felt no need to break it. There was nothing to say.Somehowhe’d found her secret. And she did not know how to change the course of that except curse herself for ever coming here. For thinking she could have success and creative fulfillmentandbe safe from her secret getting out.

This was Lorenzo’s fault—for leaving her, for ordering violent attacks, for being here—but it was also her own for putting herself in this foolish situation all for the sense of freedom selling her art had provided her.

She should have known one person didn’t get too much of a good thing. She had wonderful parents, a beautiful son. It should have been enough. Shame on her for wanting more.

“Here is how the rest of your time in Palermo will go,” Lorenzo said matter-of-factly. Whatever anger had slipped into his voice earlier had now chilled. “You will attend tonight’s party, as I am told it is very important for your career. You will attend your final showing in a few days. Then we will fly to New Jersey, together, and you will take me tomyson, Brianna. As you should have done long before now.”

She did not care for his bossy tone. For the formality of it. Like she was an employee or a subordinate. He had never spoken to her like this before, and it was enough to put her back up. No matter how ill-advisedly.

“I have doneeverythingto protect my son and I will never,everstop. You are a violent criminal. No doubt if you weren’t a billionaire, you’d be in jail.”

He laughed then, but not the same chuckle from last night. Nothing that spoke of levity. It was dark and it was bitter.

“I would think this would go without saying, but if it needs to be said, so be it. I haveneverordered anyone be hurt in my name, Brianna. I am not a coward. If I wished to attack my rival, I would attack him—not achild—with my own two bare hands.”

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